Wolfish Revelations
by reikat
Summary: Eriah is guarding Windhelm as a werewolf when she finds herself facing down Ulfric and a Stormcloak patrol on a hill overlooking the city. Thalmor agents ambush them looking for the Dragonborn. Secrets are revealed and trust between friends is pushed to the brink. Follow-up to Wrath of the Dragonborn. One-shot


Near Windhelm, in the dead of night with the aurora shimmering and the moons shining overhead, a black werewolf was lying in the snow on a hill overlooking the city. A statue of Talos was near the monster but this night, the beast was at peace while maintaining a curious vigil. Eriah was guarding the city. She was out of the city on a rumor that Elenwen had put out a bounty for her head and was moving to retaliate against Ulfric Stormcloak in order to force Eriah into the open. The reason for the bounty was obvious. Last month, she and Farkas had returned to Windhelm to find her housecarl and dog wounded and their children kidnapped. The fury of the two Companions led them to move on the Embassy. Farkas got the children out while Eriah made the rage of a mother known by ripping through the Thalmor stationed there. She had figured that they wouldn't take the threat she left seriously and it was on her to protect her family, her city, and her Jarl. The rumor of retaliation against her had come straight from Galmar and she took it upon herself to send a clearer message if she spotted the Thalmor within a couple miles of her city.

She snarled a bit as she remembered the first time she had set foot in the Embassy. She had infiltrated a party for Delphine to see if the Thalmor were behind the dragons' return and had come across dossiers on herself, Delphine, Esbern, and Ulfric. When she learned what Elenwen had done to him during the Great War, her heart was set ablaze in righteous fury. It was also then that she came to learn the truth of her own heart: that she had fallen in love with Ulfric. The time where she had those chances to say something had long since passed and her heart had moved on to Farkas. However, her devotion to her Jarl and friend remained, even as a small piece of her remained in love with him. She would do what she had to to keep Windhelm safe. She even had Odahviing flying the length and breadth of the hold to make sure things were peaceful.

The reason for her transformed state was so her enemies couldn't get the jump on her and to give her an edge. She had fought Thalmor wizards enough to know she wasn't much of a threat to their magic, since she was trained solely with weapons. Her dragon soul didn't make controlling the wolf spirit much easier but it certainly helped keep a leash on it, letting her retain some semblance of sentience. It had been different with Farkas who revealed he was a werewolf when she first started out in the Companions. His beast didn't attack her like it did the Silver Hand because it already saw her as a pack mate. Because of that, Farkas knew her in his transformed state. Eriah could differentiate between enemies and non-threats because of her soul. The fact she was a werewolf was known to all of three people and all of them were in the Companions; Farkas, Vilkas, and Aela. Eriah's brother-in-law was currently working with the Huntress to track down the last Glenmoril Witch on Eriah's behalf. She was constantly exhausted from her dragon soul waging its own war on the wolf spirit intruding in her body. She was worse off than her own husband and brother-in-law when they were still werewolves because of it.

Eriah's ears perked as she heard something sneaking up on her from behind. Snarling and getting to her feet, the powerful beast turned and her silver eyes used the light of the moons to aid in her night vision. She froze when she saw she was surrounded by a few Stormcloaks led by none other than Ulfric. His ax was in hand and his intention was obvious. The Stormcloaks didn't know that she knew they were there but they had paused when she got to her paws. "So the rumors were true. A werewolf does haunt this hill." one of the soldiers whispered. She needn't bothered. Eriah's hearing was sharp. She could hear their heartbeats from her distance. "Why isn't it attacking? Surely it knows we're here." came another whisper. The transformed Dragonborn bent over a little, taking on a position of submission as the Stormcloaks made themselves known. Their surprise was such that she could taste it. While submissive, her lips were pulled back from her teeth as a warning that one wrong move could be deadly.

Ulfric, who was leading them, cocked an eyebrow at the werewolf's odd behavior. It made no move to attack but was warning them not to make any wrong moves. Its eyes leveled with his and he felt like he had seen those eyes before. He slowly started to approach, his ax raised in his own warning to the monster. He got within an arm's length of the werewolf who looked down on him and groaned. Its ears flipped forward and its arms remained at its sides. The wicked claws on its fingers curled into slight fists. As man and beast considered each other, the werewolf's gaze was suddenly drawn upward and it started to growl. The Stormcloaks whirled around to find themselves surrounded by Thalmor Justicars, wizards, and warriors. "It was a trap." Ulfric cursed. "Never dreamed you'd leave the safety of your walls, Stormcloak. Now we have you, your men, and the monster surrounded." one of the Justicars sneered. "Seems Stormblade was right when she told me her hunch you wouldn't heed her warning." the Jarl growled, turning his back on the werewolf.

Eriah's inner most thoughts found Ulfric foolish for showing his back to her. If not for her internal fight to keep the wolf spirit from overtaking her rationality, he would've certainly died right then. Instead, she focused the wolf's wrath on the elves that had them trapped on that hill near the statue of Talos. "Before you die, tell us where the woman is. The Dragonborn has committed murder of the highest degree when she attacked the Embassy." one of the wizards said. Eriah looked down at Ulfric, wondering what he planned to do. She trusted him with every fiber in her being and thus she knew he would never rat her out. He would never be a victim of the elves again. "I will not tell you, Altmer. Your people brought that down on yourselves when you kidnapped her children." he said, defiantly. The elves closed the circle a bit, causing the Stormcloaks to tighten their own fold. "You performed admirably in delivering that message. A shame she didn't turn on you as we had hoped. I, for one, thought for sure she'd kill you for not protecting the brats but all in all, my job in taking them was a success. I'll ask you again, where is the woman?" the Justicar demanded.

The Justicar revealing he was the one personally took her children caused Eriah's rage to boil over. "You want me? I'm right here!" she said suddenly, projecting her thoughts into every mind there. With a roar that startled everyone, she shoved Ulfric aside and charged at the Altmer. Shouts of surprise and fear rose up on that hilltop as the werewolf Dragonborn went berserk. She pounced a Thalmor soldier that aimed to cut down one of her former shield-sisters and savagely mutilated him. She turned her fangs on the Justicar who dared lay a hand on her children. She hoisted him into the air as he tried to fend her off before throwing him over the cliff. She roared in pain as a dagger of silver sliced her arm. "Silver Hand weapons!" her mind raged. She had personally destroyed the the anti-werewolf clan alongside Vilkas after they attacked Jorrvaskr and killed her predecessor as Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane. The Thalmor must've investigated their stronghold and took their silver weapons. Eriah heard the elves's shock that their silver weapons gave them an edge over her but she acted quickly to keep the elves with such weapons from using them by smacking them hard enough to send them flying a good distance away. Her arm burning, she sliced and diced an archer. The Thalmor were nearly routed when a wizard shot a powerful spell at her. Blinded by pain as she was bombarded by lightning, her arm swung out and accidentally hit Ulfric square across his chest.

Ulfric grunted in pain as the strength behind the blow sent him staggering backwards. His eyes widened as he fell backwards off the cliff. He managed to catch himself on a jutting rock just out of range of anyone trying to reach him and hung on. Several of his men broke from the fighting to try to help but they couldn't reach him as they were pursued by the elves. The Jarl could hear the werewolf slaughtering their enemies and prayed to the Nine it didn't turn its rage on his men. He felt his grip slipping but the stubborn man kept a tight hold on the ledge. He couldn't die here on the doorstep of his own city. His mind went to the Dragonborn's family within Windhelm's walls. After Samuel and Sofie were rescued, he swore to never let it happen a second time. If it did, Ulfric knew his life was forfeit. Eriah's family meant everything to her and she depended on him to keep them safe when she was away. If any harm came to her children at the hands of the Thalmor...she would kill him and there would be no one to stop her.

Eriah finished her rampage and let out a loud roar. She lowered herself down into a crouched position, her silver-inflicted wound burning like the fires of Oblivion, blood running down her arm. Her ears picked up the sounds of the surviving Stormcloaks behind her and she looked over her shoulder. She heard Ulfric grunting somewhere over the edge and she knew he was in trouble. She strode over to the Stormcloaks in four steps and pushed them aside. "Jarl Ulfric!" several soldiers cried, fearful he was about to get killed. Eriah crouched down on the ledge and looked down at the Jarl. His eyes were fearful but defiant. This was one of the few times he was at the mercy of anything. The wolf spirit within the Dragonborn considered killing him because it saw him as defenseless prey. Her rational mind railed against it with every bit of her dragon soul. Snarling, Eriah reached down.

Ulfric flinched involuntarily but soon found himself being grabbed by his coat and pulled straight into the air. The werewolf, with a stunning display of strength, lifted him high into the air before turning slightly in place and none-too-gently dropping him on the ground. The Stormcloaks managed to drag him away from the werewolf. It growled as the pain from its wound caused its injured arm to go limp and it crouched down again before licking its wound. Ulfric was pulled to his feet and he motioned for his soldiers to stay back. He slowly approached where his ax had fallen, the werewolf watching his every move. "Never thought I'd see the day when one of Hircine's beasts would actually save a man." he said, carefully. The werewolf snarled and snapped its jaws as if the name of its master made it angry. "Stand down, men. I think this one is harmless." the Jarl said.

"Harmless, my ass. That monster just tore the Thalmor apart. We can't trust this thing." one of them said. "And yet not one of our people is dead by the claws of this monster and it pulled me to safety. Based on that alone, I think I know who this werewolf is." Ulfric said. Moving slowly so the beast could watch his every move, the Jarl sheathed his ax and held out his hands as he approached. The monster growled lowly in its throat but didn't move a muscle as his fingers brushed against the course fur on its face. His hands were fully on both sides of its face when its lips finally relaxed, hiding its vicious teeth from view. It sighed deeply before its silver wound throbbed. Lowering its head, the werewolf gently put pressure on it with its own teeth. Suddenly, it went stiff. Giving a short bark, it suddenly stood at its full height, sending Ulfric reeling back in case it meant to attack. The werewolf's claws dug into its head and it gave a loud, echoing roar. It staggered forward, the Stormcloaks getting out of its way, trying to reach the trees. "Wait." Ulfric said, making it stop in its tracks and look back at him, still holding its head. "If you are who I think you are, come back here when you're back to normal." he said.

Eriah briefly considered disobeying him but felt that if she didn't, he would find out pretty quickly due to her silver wound. Her normal wounds would heal quickly, thanks to the beastblood but the silver wound on her arm was as much a burn as it was a gash. It would heal much more slowly and there would be no explaining it away. She didn't have time to argue with herself. The beastblood was fading fast and she didn't want to be near the Stormcloaks when she reverted back. Her silver wound made her that much more vulnerable. Giving a sharp bark of pain, she staggered into the trees, bouncing off a couple as she walked. Once she had a good distance between her and the Stormcloaks, the reversion began. She also reached the tree where she had hidden a spare set of clothes. Giving a loud roar as her reversion caused her silver wound to throb in gods-forsaken agony, she collapsed to the snow. Her claws tore at the ground as they reverted back to human hands. When it was over, a young Nord woman lay there sweating and panting hard. Reverting back to human form was always this draining but Eriah's state was worsened by her wound.

She gathered her faculties enough to reach into the tree notch where she had hidden her spare clothes and pulled them on, hissing loudly and tears springing to her eyes as her wound was aggravated. She felt a fever coming on and knew she had to get her wound checked. Silver-induced wounds, even small ones, had to be treated as soon as possible. If left unchecked for too long, they quickly became rancid. She had heard plenty of stories about werewolves losing life and limb to rancid silver wounds. The Dragonborn did not want to join that list. The Circle had the antidote but they were far away in Whiterun. Eriah's only chance lay with Ulfric's court wizard, Wuunferth. She got to her feet and staggered back towards the hill where the Stormcloaks and Ulfric were surely waiting. She had never meant for the Jarl to discover her lycanthropy but the Thalmor agents possessing silver weapons wasn't something she could've foreseen. Those damn elves, even in death, would now force her out into the open and she had no idea how her former shield-siblings nor Ulfric would react. She didn't want them to scorn her or abandon her because of what she was, not when she was desperately searching for the last Glenmoril Witch.

Back at the statue of Talos, Ulfric stood alone. He had sent his small patrol to the roads leading to Windhelm just to make sure the Thalmor patrol that ambushed them were alone. He heard the sound of someone groaning and panting in agony and he turned around. Just as he suspected, Eriah was staggering his way, a nasty wound on her arm that was only looking worse with every minute that passed. It was the same kind of wound and was in the same spot as the werewolf's. Ulfric knew then that werewolf was Eriah Quintence, the Dragonborn. She came to a stop a short distance away and while it was plain her strength was failing, she stubbornly remained on her feet. "Please don't kill me. I'm not a monster." she said in a quiet voice that made her agony plain to him. She didn't look well. "I somehow knew it was you, Dragonborn. I sent my soldiers to watch the roads for any more Thalmor agents and to protect your secret. You were very brave showing yourself to me after the beastblood relinquished its hold. I commend you for your courage but you have a lot of explaining to do. I sometimes wonder why I tolerate all the things I let you get away with. In this case, I'm surprised at you. You bent your knee to a Daedric Prince after all that talk of how you would never serve them." he said.

Eriah felt her tears well up even more as she scowled at him. "Don't talk down to me! You think I wanted this curse? The reasons I took the blood are my own and I'd sooner go to Oblivion than justify myself! I don't bow to Hircine and you're a damn fool if you think I do. I'm working like hell to track down the last of the Glenmoril Witches! Gods-dammit, Ulfric! I'm trying to end this! The only real comfort I have is that if I die before breaking this curse, Hircine will never get his hands on my soul! I belong to Akatosh! It's to the Aedra where my allegiance lies and the Daedra will never claim me. Once I find that damn witch and take her head, I will be free of the Huntsman! Don't make me your enemy!" she shouted. A spike of pain and a worsening fever caused her to fall to one knee. "Please, help me. Silver is poison to my kind. Rancid wounds can lead to loss of life or limb. The size of this gash means that ever minute wasted here brings me closer to death." she groaned. She looked up at her friend and Jarl, her tears flowing freely as her face grew desperate and her vulnerability shown through.

Ulfric had been caught off guard by her outburst. Eriah was hard to anger and there were few things that managed to stir her temper up. There had been times where they got on each other's nerves, just as friends sometimes did. That was just human nature but Eriah possessing the soul of a dragon upped the ante a bit. Sometimes, shouting matches between them would teeter dangerously close to where there was a real risk of them using the Thu'um against each other. What angered Ulfric in this moment was the fact that Eriah had kept the fact she was a werewolf from him. She had gambled the safety of Windhelm by withholding that information. Werewolves were unpredictable sorts and if she had any triggers that would cause a transformation, she put many people at risk. It was stupid decision on her part. He was further angered that she had also knowingly put her own children and husband at risk over her lycanthropy.

Sighing heavily, he realized he was being way too harsh. Eriah never made rash decisions. Whatever her reason was for becoming a beast of Hircine, he could only surmise that she had thought long and hard about it. So far, it seemed she had managed to coexist with regular humans just fine as far as he knew and she was now hunting down the final Glenmoril Witch in order to undo that curse. Rumor spoke of how the other witches had been slain. Now he knew who was likely responsible. Ulfric looked down at the woman in the snow. Her wound clearly pained her and if it was true a gash that size could kill her, he had to set aside his anger to ensure she survived. He didn't want to lose her because she had become one of his dearest friends and allies. He closed the distance between them, removing his overcoat. Eriah looked up at him as he set it about her shoulders and he took her face in his hands to keep her eyes on him. "We will have words about this later, Dragonborn. Keep that in mind." he said.

Eriah gave a mumbled okay about talking about her curse later and her strength failed entirely. It was quite a feat she pulled, maintaining rationality as long as she did before the sickness finally got to her. She fell forward against the Jarl's chest as she passed out, her body racking hard with a terrible chill from the fever which hit full force. He bound her tightly in his overcoat before picking her up and heading back to the city. He told the guard on the bridge to call his patrol back while he strode past. The guards didn't question the bundle in his arms, thankfully. As much as he hated it, Ulfric had to keep Eriah's secret for now. Few people took kindly to werewolves and even fewer were willing to let such beasts live. He would have to tell Wuunferth the truth obviously and he trusted his court wizard to mix the antidote needed to save Eriah's life...and not end it. He also had to summon Farkas to the Palace to let him know his wife was badly wounded and prayed to the Nine the man was as calm in the face of adversity as Eriah claimed. He honestly didn't want to have to deal with an angry Companion who was very much a match for the Jarl in combat. He could only hope things went smoothly so Eriah could have a fighting chance.


End file.
